From Metro to The Wild
by Lo and behold my fiction
Summary: One man with a single undying passion, his wife and a group of loyal followers as they leave the underground to search for others who might have survived a holocaust. One boy, a divine mission and a chance at defeating Evil Incarnate once and for all. Their paths align to make them both more than the sum of their parts. One fights to survive, another to keep all alive.


" _I want to write down my story: from the end of the World to the end of my life."_

Homer of Sevastopolskaya Station

* * *

Misery.

Misery had been all that he'd ever known since he left the metro. Whether it be a sip of vodka from an old dusty bottle or the vile beasts crawling across the wasteland outside. The chugging of a massive engine could be heard as smoke filled the skies; winter snows blanket the plains and ruined building. Quietly stood the man as he sat up from his drink to look amongst the scenery outside his carriage.

Armed with binoculars and a steeled will, the man spotted a glimmer that was far brighter than anything he'd seen before; it was glittering from a stone tower close to an old bombed-out husk that was presumably the centerpiece of a town or village, he didn't know. All that was known was that there was the possibility of something important nearby, that feeling was something that couldn't be shaken off.

"прива́л!" He yelled in his native tongue in a heavy shout as the locomotive merged to a screeching, yet overextended, halt. Stopped at what was once possibly a rail crossing, the man stepped off with several other heavily armed figures in full combat garb. A Geiger Radar revealing little more than occasional whirrs; with a hand pointed towards the structure, a three-story artefact with a ruined steeple based off baroque architecture, the man and his entourage set off towards the unknown

An hour had passed as the group of soldiers marched towards the structure, now a town as the team got closer. It looked ancient, as though it didn't belong in the time period; ironic, considering time had ended in 2013 on the eve of the so-called _"Third World War"._

All around stood ruined structures of myriad construction, from white masonry to simple wood. Most disturbing of all, however, were the machinations that seemed as though they were unaware of the situation at hand…at least, until the troop of soldiers walked into their view, one of the machines laid its single blue eye on the leader of the team as its iris turned from blue to blood red almost instantly.

"Быть осторожным!" The main member of the group ordered as he ducked out of the beam of laser-driven death that had almost hit him, rifle rounds pounded into the metallic cage of the monstrosity several more of the six-legged abominations came to its aid.

"Другие прикрывают их!" The order to flank had been given as two men struck the right side along a brick fence in a fiery sprint; the robotic adversaries not noticing as the three of them still laid fire upon the main group. It wasn't until a blast of buckshot had struck one of the droids that the two men had finally been noticed, leaving one droids vulnerable back panel exposed. The group of troops fired upon the blue-lit panel until a burst of energy caused it to explode; leaving said robot and its company either disabled or handicapped. One still remained on its flexible metal appendages as it struggled to even simply balance, the call for grenades was given as numerous metal fragments penetrated its core to shut it down permanently.

The skirmish was quickly over as the men regrouped and counted their lucky stars that nobody had been injured nor killed. Less could be said for the numerous skeletons that lay piled around the ruined structures however, had these machines been responsible for the deaths would remain forebodingly unclear but it was all too clear that the people had suffered a terrible fate. The three-story building near the outskirts of the town grew closer as a pale blue light seemingly shone from the top-most window of a towering spire that had been seen from the initial distance. The leader of the team nevertheless checked his ammunition and radio as he and his team marched towards the center of the town; unaware of what they might find.

* * *

Night.

It seemed that, at one point in time, he loved it; the privacy it brought, the wonders above that shone in its sky and peacefulness it brought to the land.

Not tonight though; with moon shone red and the undead rising from the ground, he had no choice but to hide himself in the closest place he could call shelter…whether it be a town, building or even a tree was all up to interpretation. Castle Town, despite its inherent number of robotic nightmares ironically dubbed 'Guardians', was safer still than laying about on the plains.

Walking towards the ruined capital, he meandered upon his thoughts as he snuck past the beasts that had risen to serve even in death; he had claimed two of the giant constructs that many had named as the 'divine beasts', two more were left and then he could finally focus on the main task at hand…

Assuming he would survive this blood moon of course.

With a heavy sigh and his sight sharpened for any strange movement, he made his way towards the abandoned ruins where it all started and prepared for rest. The night would be long and arduous after all. A building near one of the towers seemed like a relatively good spot for the night.

The night surprisingly passed with little upset aside from a curious noise in the distance. Refreshed and ready to face the day anew, he was met with a shocking sight. Outside stood the clear breeze of winter as the sun had only started to rise, the Great Plateau wasn't in sight and multiple guardians had been destroyed by some unknown means.

It couldn't have been _his_ doing, most of that power was being focused on the divine beasts and his preparations to break free from his imprisonment. If not _him_ , then whom or what could have caused this? Someone had to have had answers…and there were several people that could be asked regarding this…anomaly. He prepared to head outside to explore the surrounding area

* * *

As the man and his team strode through the streets, he catches sight of a young man in a blue tunic, of all the things to wear in a nightmare such as this, fiddling with an odd tablet-esque device. The man shouted out to the boy as he held up his rifle in caution, the same going for the men to his flanks.

The boy, seemingly surprised by the arrangement of soldiers converging on him, equipped his sword and shield as he prepared himself in a defensive stance. The soldiers gave no leeway as the lead soldier gave the order to capture the suspicious teenager, one of the men got close enough to disarm the boy until his rifle barrel was sliced by the bright blade that the boy armed himself with. Shocked by the skilled swordsmanship of the young man, the leader of the troop walks forward as he gives the order to stand down as he holsters his own rifle to speak before a loud crumbling noise caught both his and the young man's attention.

Another mechanical entity approached, this one followed by three of the devices floating in the air through the use of helicopter blades. The leader of the group gave the order to open fire as the teenager charged at the six legged abomination, chopping at the legs so that it could not move.

Rifle fire filled the air as lead met purified metal and circuitry in fiery blazes, quick work was made of the aerial opponents as the young man watched in awe at the spectacle made by the soldiers, seemingly covered in a pattern of light olive and autumn colorings and armed with protective facemasks and helmets. The leader of the group introduced himself as he observed the boy for any signs of injury or emotion.

"Меня зовут Артем, как тебя зовут, и что, во имя Бога, ты здесь делаешь?"

* * *

"Меня зовут Артем, как тебя зовут, и что, во имя Бога, ты здесь делаешь?"

The young man cocked his head as he searched for a solution, he thought he heard the word 'Artem', or something similar…Artyom perhaps, in that sentence. Kicking his mind around for answers, he had the idea that maybe the slate he held had a language decoder; worth a try he supposed as he held the slate to the man, gesturing for him to speak, the man looked suspiciously at the slate before speaking.

"Почему ты здесь один?" After a short pause he spoke again. "Где твоя семья?"

The slate lit up as the information was mysteriously processed. Translated from a long dead language to current Sheikah/Hylian yielded the questions of why he was alone and where his family was. As he was mute, his only option was to use the slate as a communicator between the two parties; a text to speech option with automatic translation included, one of the many 'unnecessary' runes that was stored onboard it seemed, was now an important tool that would likely keep him from being captured or killed.

Typing in his answer 'went to bed, woke up here and no family' and modifying it to the man's speech pattern yielded him a look of thoughtfulness as the man looked upward in moderate surprise. The man spoke again; this time asking if there is anyone nearby.

The young man looked around as he shook his head, a universal sign that needed little translation. The leader of the troop asked him to come along, with the men as armed as they were and presumably trained to kill; how could he refuse, willingly at that?

Walking back to the entrance of the ruins, the young man marveled at the scenery before his eyes; desolate yet peaceful. The snow-salted plains looked as though they'd stretched for miles with the occasional burst of sun propping out from the thick overcast above. This definitely wasn't home…But where was he then?

* * *

Boarding the massive steel locomotive to leave for the newest frontier; the man in charge of the locomotive and its crew, now known as Artyom, noticed the young man deep in though as he poked away at the device in his hands; the device in question was about the same size as a pre-war tablet that looked to be made of stone. Whether this was intentional or not was anyone's guess but the boy's…speaking of, Artyom wondered where the young man had learnt his skills with the sword in an age of rifles and explosives; not many, if anyone for that matter, practiced the art of the sword or the shield. It held no water for now, however; for it was close to dark and Artyom had been ready to sleep a long while ago.

All thoughts were shaken as the train had felt a massive jolt and a severe rocking motion that lasted for several good moments, with many men and women trying to keep their balance as both people and supplies fell to the ground; the boy grabbed his tablet quickly before a soldier slammed to the ground immediately afterwards. The violent jerking stopped as a painful thud shattered the ground and the sound of slamming through buildings could be heard; the dust settled as Artyom regained his bearings to open a side door, immediately ducking back inside as a massive amount of stone seemed to have come down on the locomotive's passenger car.

Dodging the deadly gravity-driven blocks of masonry, Artyom gave a curse as the avalanche seemed to have stopped for good. As he peered out cautiously, the steel-eyed soldier was surprised as a young woman speaks for the entire team in full English, her blue eyes sparkling with curiosity and a challenging smirk upon her face.

"Definitely not our normal pitstop…I say we gather the rest of the team and see what we can find."

Indeed, the scenery was clearly different from the usual countryside they were accustomed to. Green grass covered the landscape as a desert could be seen in the distance, the young man pulled out his tablet as he brought up a map of the surrounding area, gesturing where he had to go. Artyom took a look at the map in surprise and spoke, also in English.

"I see there's not much of a language barrier as initially thought. Good, makes it easier to communicate. Now, can you understand me?" The young man nodded as he stared in surprise. "Perfect. I am Artyom…what is your name child?" The young man typed his name out on the slate and showed it to Artyom. "Link? Eh…wouldn't name my child as such, but it works…You and I have a couple of things we need to address later."

As Artyom and the young man, now known as Link, hopped off the locomotive, several things became clear.

 **1: There were no tracks of any kind to be seen, movement would either have to be by foot or via one of the few trucks on the equipment car.**

 **2: There was no familiar landmark of any sort nearby, last check was just east of Kazan in the midst of a heavy snowstorm. Birds flying about and grass greener than the envy of the Red Line and Fourth Reich combined proved his assumptions.**

 **3: The possibility of getting back on track without help was slim to a warm vacation on the coast. A temporary alliance had to be made, but other members of the team needed to be in on the task at hand.**

"Right…I'm heading back into the train to begin a meeting with the other members. Feel free to look around the cars except for the heavily armored one, that's the only one not to disturb. I'll speak with you later regarding the plan."

With a nod and his figure facing to the desert; Link sauntered off to god-knows-where as Artyom voiced one final thought.

"What a strange child…"

With that said, Artyom marched to the train carriage with a myriad array of difficulties on his mind. That bottle was going to be empty by the end of the day, he could feel it.

* * *

 **Author's Notes: Shalom! It be I; Lo and Behold. No worries, Old World Blues hasn't fallen out of my favor just yet, though it is slow going as the holidays mix into the way of creative writing passion.**

 **Yes, Legend of Zelda and Metro, you've read that right. Two of my favorite games and one of them having an awesome series of novels, you know what Spirit Tracks was missing? A group of heavily armed Russians aboard a massive locomotive that could be heard from miles away. I love Breathe of The Wild and I'm hyped for Metro: Exodus. Figured I'd get an early lead on the hype train…all pun intended.**

 **Note that this was done as a drunken study of writing practice with grammatical errors being fixed upon sobering up. Depending on it's success and reception, the story will either continue or be taken down.**


End file.
